4 Marlborough Place, December 1878.

My dear Tyndall,

I consider your saying the other evening that you would see “any one else d—­d first,” before you would assent to the little proposal I made to you, as the most distinct and binding acceptance you are capable of.  You have nothing else to swear by, and so you swear at everybody but me when you want to pledge yourself.

It will release me of an immense difficulty if you will undertake R. Boyle and the Royal Society (which of course includes Hooke); and the subject is a capital one.

The book should not exceed about 200 pages, and you need not be ready before this time next year.  There could not be a more refreshing piece of work just to enliven the dolce far niente of the Bel Alp. (That is quite a la Knowles, and I begin to think I have some faculty as an editor.)

Settle your own terms with Macmillan.  They will be as joyful as I shall be to know you are going to take part in the enterprise.

Ever yours faithfully,

T.H.  Huxley.

4 Marlborough Place, December 31, 1878.

My dear Tyndall,

I would sooner have your Boyle, however long we may have to wait for it, than anybody else’s d—­d simmer. (Now that’s a “goak,” and you must ask Mrs. Tyndall to explain it to you.)

Two years will I give you from this blessed New Year’s eve, 1878, and if it isn’t done on New Year’s Day 1881 you shall not be admitted to the company of the blessed, but your dinner shall be sent to you between two plates to the most pestiferous corner of the laboratory of the Royal Institution.  I am very glad you will undertake the job, and feel that I have a proper New Year’s gift.

By the way, you ought to have had Hume ere this.  Macmillan sent me two or three copies, just to keep his word, on Christmas Day, and I thought I should have a lot more at once.

But there is no sign—­not even an advertisement—­and I don’t know what has become of the edition.  Perhaps the bishops have bought it up.

With all good wishes,

Ever yours,

T.H.  Huxley.

[Two letters—­both to Tyndall—­show his solicitude for his friends.  The one speaks of a last and unavailing attempt made by W.K.  Clifford’s friends to save his life by sending him on a voyage (he died not long after at Madeira); the other urges Tyndall himself to be careful of his health.]

4 Marlborough Place, April 2, 1878.

My dear Tyndall,

We had a sort of council about Clifford at Clark’s house yesterday morning—­H.  Thompson, Corfield, Payne, Pollock, and myself, and I am sure you will be glad to hear the result.

From the full statement of the nature of his case made by Clark and Corfield, it appears that though grave enough in all conscience, it is not so bad as it might be, and that there is a chance, I might almost say a fair chance, for him yet.  It appears that the lung mischief has never gone so far as the formation of a cavity, and that it is at present quiescent, and no other organic disease discoverable.  The alarming symptom is a general prostration—­very sadly obvious when he was with us on Sunday—­which, as I understand, rather renders him specially obnoxious to a sudden and rapid development of the lung disease than is itself to be feared.